Boobs and Men
by MunkenKirkland
Summary: Hungary swears that one day she will wear it on top of her clothes. One day. Hungary-centric long drabble, no couple.


Boobs and politics.

No one knew her secret. No one would understand if she told them, the feeling of power and might the ties gave her.

She was a female nation in a world of men (it was stupid that it even mattered, since everyone was nations), and she sometimes didn't feel like she belonged with Belgium and Taiwan, the pretty girls who loved skirts and the likes. Hungary had always preferred wearing pants and shirts, like she had when she was a small nation (at the time when she believed herself to be male), but once people found out her true gender she was forced to wear dresses and have her hair decorated with flowers.

_Sigh. Thank you very much for ruining that, Prussia._

It was another rainy day in London, where the world-meeting was held. England was as usual busy fighting with France and America, some boy with glasses trying to break it up. _He looks familiar, _Hungary thought offhandedly as she made her way to her seat, sending a glare in Romania's way as he was looking at her with that smirk of his.

If the brunette had been more energetic she would have smacked him down with her lovely new frying pan, but instead she settled for trying to melt his bones with her angry gaze.

Whenever she shifted she felt the caress of a silky fabric against her chest, making her calm down slightly.

_I am the most powerful in here. I have a tie._

The Hungarian didn't know when it had started, but it might have been the day Prussia had given her his ugly, old tie. It was frayed and burnt, in a yucky yellow colour, but somehow she grew attached to the damn thing. She forced Austria to tie it so she could use it, and she got herself another one. And another one. Eventually her collection grew, over one hundred ties hanging in a small closet hidden away in her bedroom.

It had been a fun thing at first, to pick a new tie everyday and put it on under her clothes. She guessed that it was the same feeling girls got when they put on lingerie under their usual clothes, a forbidden feeling that made the day a little more exciting.

Over the years it changed, as she switched hands, always being patronized by large men that looked down on her just because she had boobs. _Curse them all. _For a nation it was horrible to be talked to like that, and for a proud nation? Death.

So the ties she wore changed to become something symbolic, a way to remember that she was just as capable as any penis-creature out there. She might have long, fluffy brown hair and a curvy body but that didn't mean that she was an object, an idiot that needed a man to pat her on the head when she did something good.

Hell, if anyone literally did that tried she would cut them up with a spoon.

_I don't think I would even regret doing that. Hm._

That's why she stayed calm when Austria addressed her with "Dear Elizaveta", explaining the things England said in overly simplified terms quietly, as always assuming that she needed help and protection. She adored that he tried, because he was still horrible at being romantic after all these years, but truth is that she knew the subject they were talking about by heart, and could most likely discuss it without preparing at all.

_Little Roddy… I know this better than you do. Trust me._

One thing she also had learned from being woman was that if she stayed quiet and looked cute people had a tendency of saying a lot more than they expected, only to have their own words slammed back in their faces by the Hungarian later. She had won a lot of arguments by just observing people.

Unconsciously she touched the small bulge in her blouse, feeling the tie with a small smile.

_I'll show them that not only men can wear these as a token of power._

When her turn came she stood up, explaining what measures she would take and what she saw as most important regarding the things they discussed. Her voice didn't quiver and she didn't back down when Germany flew up, questioning her in his usual tone, loud and angry.

_You're not better than me just because you have a penis, Germany._

As usual, the argument was broken off before she managed to win the debate and England called for a break.

Had it not been something that happened every time she would have exploded with rage, but now she sat down, fixing her papers, preparing herself for the next fight.

_Men. They think they own the world._

It was a struggle every day to show the world (literally) that she was just as competent and intelligent as everyone else there. The only one treating her like a person and not a gender was Prussia; Hungary was his 'bro' just as much as America, France, Spain and Denmark. It was a shame that he wasn't allowed to attend the meetings anymore, after he blew up Denmark's chair that one time.

He was also the only person who knew about her strange obsession with ties and their symbolism, and the albino even contributed to the collection whenever he found a weird tie.

_I should go grab a beer with him sometime._

This cycle would repeat itself over and over, she knew, because that's the way it had been for several decades. The women working with politics would win respect little by little, and maybe one day she could wear a suit as casually as any of the male nations. Until then she would continue with her little play, wearing her beloved ties under her clothes.

_You will all see that my gender won't change the fact that I am one smart person._

Without noticing it she smiled to herself, once again touching the small bulge. They would all see.

A/N: OTL I don't know anymore… I was going to write a humorous fic to my irl Hungary, and it turned out like, political and shit. What the hell. However, I do believe that women are patronized by men all the time because they happen to be women. I guess all the idiotic girls out there (*cough cough*) contribute to the general view, but it still doesn't make it okay. I think Hungary is the most proud of the female characters in Hetalia, and I think she would hate it if someone looked down on her. So I can totally see this happening, but, eh. That's me. Here you go, Johanna~ Have my crappy writing and be happy.


End file.
